Simplicity 5329: The 10 Year Robe

Today was not about stash-busting. It was about UFO's. One UFO to be precise. Nearly 10 years ago, I had thought how grand it would be to make Pete a robe. Not a furry, flannel, or practical robe, but something along more frivolous lines. I wanted to make him a shorter robe out of some kind of satiny fabric. It took years for me to find just the right piece, a Chinese brocade in black and gold. It's polyester, but still soft and shiny. After finally finding just the right fabric and buying up what was left on the bolt, I did what any sane seamstress would do in the same situation. I washed it and put it into the stash (because one just doesn't immediately cut into the perfect fabric, even if one knows what it is earmarked to become).

Later I pulled it out of the stash, did the alterations I would need to do on my pattern, made sure I had enough fabric, taking into account a few flaws that were there. I should have been more careful about inspecting the fabric since it was the end of the bolt, but it was one of those things that when I found it, I knew it was what I'd been looking for over the previous 9 years or so and I was too excited to be careful about something so mundane as possible flaws or embedded tape. I probably still would have bought it, even if I had seen the flaws, but maybe I could have asked for a discount. After laying out the pattern, I don't know what I was thinking, but I put everything away without cutting it out.

A few months ago, I took it all out of the stash again. This time I cut it out nice and carefully, put it into a bag with the pattern (Simplicity 5329), and set it on the hutch of my sewing desk. There it has sat for the past 3 or 4 months (maybe more, but I don't really want to think about it being longer than that). Today I finally took it out and sewed it up. After nearly 10 years and multiple stops and starts, I finished the robe.

Pete's been sick for well over a week, but he's on the mend now, so he was willing to pose for me in his long-awaited robe. I got as far as "Grrr, Baby. Very grrr." and "You're a Tiger. You're Tony the Tiger. You're Grrreat." 

Then I kept quoting ("You're a lemming. You don't have sharp teeth capable of biting.") There aren't any pictures from that portion of the photo shoot because the lemming impression led to far too much giggling.

It's rather scandalously short, meant to be worn with jammie pants, of course. But that can be our little secret.